Refuge in Audacity
by DELTAfox1501
Summary: "Mustang had called him with an 'urgent and compelling' request for his presence at Central Military Command. He was a caretaker. And right now, Riza was his patient and his charge."


"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Alphonse Elric stepped into the office of Brigadier General Roy Mustang, taking a seat in one of the two armchairs opposite Mustang's desk when prompted. He was still wearing the shirt and vest that he'd had on when he left his office at the university, just a half an hour ago. He would have preferred to change into something more casual, perhaps just a shirt and no tie, but Mustang had called him with an "urgent and compelling" request for his presence at Central Military Command. So, he'd driven straight there from the university, without stopping anywhere else.

Mustang waited for him to be seated before saying, "I'm glad you're here. We have a bit of a situation."

"What is it?"

"Did you happen to pass Captain Hawkeye on your way in?"

Alphonse frowned and leaned forward. "No, sir. I didn't. Is something wrong?"

"I think she's come down with something. Lieutenant Ross interrupted me while I was on the phone, this morning, in order to tell me that she'd overheard her heaving over a toilet in the women's restroom. Then, when I saw her afterward, Captain Hawkeye's face seemed rather pale."

If he was a different type of man, one with the ability to maintain a decent poker face, for instance, Alphonse might have been able to hide the growing concern that churned within him. But his expression had already dimmed, his eyes trailing off to the side while his mind began cataloguing the symptoms.

"Go on."

"That's all I know," Mustang concluded, his frown mirroring Alphonse's. "I've already spoken to her about it and insisted that she take the rest of the day off."

"How did she respond?"

"About as well as you'd expect. In any case, she outright refuses to see any of the military doctors here in Central, so I'd like to ask you to look after her until she's back in good health." Mustang leaned back in his leather throne and rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. "Do you think you can handle this within a couple of days? The longer she's out, the more paperwork I have to do."

What he meant by that, of course, was that the longer she was out, the more paperwork _his staff_ would have to do.

"It certainly doesn't sound like anything too serious, but I'd have to examine her, myself, in order to make any kind of diagnosis," Alphonse murmured, scratching the small patch of scruff at the bottom of his chin. One thing he'd yet to master in the past couple of years was shaving; Ed had never had any facial hair, which meant that Alphonse had never learned how to deal with the problem satisfactorily. And it was, indeed, a problem, at least as far as Alphonse was concerned. The stuff itched, and though he'd managed to obtain a working knowledge of a razor since picking up his job as a professor of Xingese studies, he needed to get in the habit of shaving more than once a week. If nothing else, though, scratching the abhorrent fuzz on his chin seemed to help him think. "If I absolutely had to guess, I'd say she simply picked up a stomach virus, somewhere."

Mustang nodded and said, "Well, in any case, I told her you'd give her a ride back to her apartment. I assume that won't be a problem."

"Not at all."

* * *

"You've got bags under your eyes. Have you not been sleeping well, lately?"

Alphonse was crouched in front of a seated Riza Hawkeye, whom he'd just spent the past five minutes visually examining from head to toe. Whatever was wrong with her certainly didn't _seem_ serious, though he couldn't help but realize that Mustang's observations had been spot on. Her face seemed devoid of its typically healthy complexion and she'd already made a visit to the bathroom in the scant half hour since they'd arrived at her apartment. Now, in the warm light of the living room, Alphonse could see that she looked positively exhausted.

Riza folded her arms and eased back into the sofa, a familiar frown forming on her face. "I woke up in the middle of the night, last night, and got sick. I had trouble getting back to sleep, after that."

"Right," Alphonse said, quietly. "Well, it seems pretty clear to me that this is just a stomach virus. Eat anything out of the ordinary, lately?"

"I had a luncheon with General Mustang and Führer Grumman, the other day. Mustang insisted on seafood, for some asinine reason." She shrugged and added, "I've never been a fan."

It seemed clear to Alphonse that Riza was trying to be on her best behavior, and that being stuck at home instead of working was driving her mad. Which was precisely why he would do his best to help her recover as quickly as possible. Alphonse remembered a remark from Jean Havoc. "Only a fool stands between Riza Hawkeye and her responsibilities." Indeed.

"Alphonse?"

"Hm?"

"Is there something on your mind?"

At that moment, it finally occurred to Alphonse that he'd been kneeling in front of her, staring at her for the better part of a minute. He'd gotten caught up in his recognition of the fact that ailment seemed to do nothing to detract from Riza's natural beauty; he would've been lying if he'd said that he'd only just started to find her attractive. In fact, Alphonse had been somewhat captivated by Riza Hawkeye since he'd first seen her, all those years ago, back when he and Ed had still been foolish children who'd just attempted to resurrect their dead mother. Now Alphonse was a twenty-one year old man and he could appreciate Riza for what she was: gorgeous. He'd always found the way her bangs swept across her face especially striking, simultaneously reclusive and challenging, like a hawk using its wing to guard itself. By the time he realized just how lost in the moment he was, Riza's face displayed something akin to mild annoyance.

"I'm sorry," Alphonse mumbled, blushing furiously. "What did you say?"

"You need to shave."

"Oh. Yeah, I think so, too. It's just that I didn't have anyone to teach me, when I got my body back, so I had to learn how to do it myself. I know I ought to do it more often. This stupid scruff always itches."

What had been mild annoyance but a moment ago was now replaced with subtle appreciation. The small smile on Riza's face told him he was rambling, but that it was okay, because there was something about it she found endearing.

This didn't stop Alphonse's reddened face from growing even redder.

"Anyway," he exclaimed, standing upright. "You just need rest. And lots of it. If you just take it easy, you'll be back at work in no time."

Riza nodded. "Understood. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"I'm not leaving, yet."

She raised an eyebrow and replied, "Come again?"

"I promised General Mustang I'd look after you until you were back in perfect health. If it's alright with you, I'd like to monitor you for at least a couple of hours. Preferably until you fall asleep for the night." Alphonse was rarely this adamant about anything, but the well being of his family and friends was something that was of tremendous importance to him. He was a caretaker. It was in his very nature, intricately woven into the fabric of his personality. And right now, Riza was his patient. "If it's alright with you," he repeated.

Silence prevailed for several moments while Riza contemplated his words. At last, she sighed and looked up at him with a small, barely perceptible smile and an equally as discernable nod. "Very well. I suppose it does get lonely around here, from time to time. Black Hayate is certainly affectionate, but I'm starting to feel like the conversation is lacking."

That earned a chuckle from Alphonse.

"Just give me a moment to go upstairs and change out of my uniform."

"Sure thing."

Alphonse waited patiently in the living room, while Riza walked herself to her bedroom in order to shed the pressed and starched uniform that she kept routinely immaculate for something that was more suitable for entertaining company. He took a seat in the armchair that was but a few places from the dark, empty fireplace and smiled when he felt something nudge against his leg. "Hey there, Hayate," he greeted, leaning forward to scratch the excited canine behind the ear. "How are you, buddy?"

Riza's apartment was what you might call "sparsely furnished," though it was easy to make yourself feel at home. Most of what decorated the living room, such as end tables and whatnot, was made of polished oak. The sofa and armchair were a subdued beige color, and both were exceptionally comfortable. Alphonse would have invited the black and white hound onto his lap for a belly rub, but realized that furniture exploration was probably in violation of the terms and conditions of his living agreement. Instead, Hayate settled into a spot on the throw rug that obscured most of the living room floor, right next to Alphonse's leg.

"I have a problem," Riza announced upon entering the living room and reclaiming her space on the edge of the sofa that was nearest the seated Alphonse, who glanced her over and realized that "casual" didn't come easy for her; she was dressed in a cyan button down shirt and pants. Riza looked over at him and said, "I'm hungry, but I'm aware of the fact that anything I eat might upset my stomach. Any suggestions?"

"Bread," Alphonse answered quickly. "And maybe a mild soup. Something bland and boring."

"I suppose it will have to do."

Alphonse rose from his spot on the armchair, a motion that disturbed the tranquil Hayate, momentarily, and started off in the direction of the kitchen. "You just relax. I'll take care of it."

Riza's mouth opened, as though she was about to call after him at assure him that it was quite alright, that she was perfectly capable of feeding herself. But Alphonse was already in the kitchen by the time she realized what he'd said and turned to protest. Instead of wasting energy by getting up and arguing, she decided to accept the gentlemanly assistance and sit tight in the living room. As she curled her legs on the sofa, beside her, she planted her head on her hand and stared at the dry logs in the fireplace. Truth to tell, she thought there was something quite nice about being looked after by a kind, compassionate man like Alphonse. Out of the corner of her eye, Riza spied her beloved canine, who was lying on the floor and (obviously) yearning for a belly rub.

"Come here, Hayate," she said, patting the base of the sofa with her free hand. "It's nice to have company every once in a while, hm?"

* * *

Alphonse closed the book he was reading, one of five volumes he owned on the subject of the world's most prolific economic thinkers, and spotted the unconscious Riza Hawkeye stretched out across the sofa. By the time he'd noticed her dozing off, she was already fast asleep. She'd finished the bread and soup he'd hastily fixed for her without difficulty, some time ago, and he was satisfied that he could leave her for the night. Normally, he would have bid her farewell, but Alphonse didn't have the heart to wake the sleeping beauty.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but notice that Riza was sleeping uncovered, that the fireplace was empty and dark, and that there was a perfectly good quilt draped over the back of the sofa. He knew it was clichéd. He knew it was something he might've found in the pages of one of those dreadful romance novels that Winry secretly liked to read.

But he just couldn't help himself.

Alphonse set his book on the armchair and quietly trotted over to the sofa, reaching over Riza and slowly liftig the quilt up into the air. For a brief moment, he took notice of how content her expression was. Then, very carefully, he laid the quilt overtop her sleeping form and did his best to tuck her in without waking her. Despite this, Riza began to stir ever so slightly beneath him. Then the unthinkable happened.

She moaned.

It was such a delicate, fleeting noise that Alphonse actually questioned whether or not he'd really heard it. Was it real? Was it some sort of audible mirage his brain had tricked his ears into hearing? It couldn't be real. He was hearing things. That's what he told himself, as he very quickly stood upright and surveyed his surroundings, as though he was preparing to flee the scene of a crime. It was _definitely_ time for him to lave.

Riza took in a shallow gasp and murmured, "Oh, my."

Alphonse covered the distance between the sofa and the armchair in one long stride, snatched up his book, and feverishly began searching for the tan trenchcoat he'd been wearing, beforehand. He saw it laid out over the back of the armchair and seized it with his free hand, desperately trying to throw it on while the bewitching melody of Riza's voice floated over from the sofa. The anxious Alphonse managed to feed one of his arms into a sleeve when the situation got infinitely more baffling and intimidating.

"Oh, Alphonse," Riza breathed, squirming in the midst of what was obviously an enjoyable sleep. "That's it. Right there."

At that precise moment, Alphonse was stricken with the image of a guitar string snapping unceremoniously.

He froze in place and didn't move for several seconds. It was all he could think to do. Riza's soothing tone died down, indicating that perhaps she was falling into a deeper slumber. Black Hayate, trotted in from the next room over and gave Alphonse a look, as if to say, "Dude, do you even realize what's going on, right now?" The implications of his name gracing her lips while she reveled in obvious, subconscious fantasies were not lost on Alphonse, though he was afraid that if he stuck around to ponder them, he'd only make the situation worse. His face a dazzling shade of red, Alphonse spotted the front door at the end of the adjacent hallway and decided to make a stealthy dash for freedom.

Then his foot caught on a fold in the throw rug, and he slammed face first into the hardwood floor of Riza Hawkeye's living room in an unattractive heap.

Alphonse pushed himself up into a crouch, rubbed his nose lightly, and muttered an uncharacterstic expletive.

He couldn't help but notice, at that point, that the sleeping figure on the sofa was now sitting perfectly upright. Riza looked over at him through dim, sleep laden eyes and grimaced slightly whilst rubbing her face. "Alphonse?"

"Um, hello," Alphonse offered in weak reply.

"What was I . . . what?" The question was left unanswered as Riza slowly came to her senses. Then, in the span of about half a second, years upon years of flawlessly maintaining a stoic and professional demeanor became utterly wasted as her eyes flew wide open, her mouth agape. That was when Alphonse saw something he never thought he'd see in his entire life. The calm, collected, unflappable Riza Hawkeye was _blushing_, heatedly. Her voice became a whisper so quiet that Alphonse had to strain to hear it, and she said, simply, "Oh, shit."

The two of them sat there for what seemed like ages, just staring at each other. Roughly a minute into the awkward impasse, it appeared as though they were competing for the dubious honor of having the most prominent, embarrassing blush. Shockingly, Riza was in the lead, with a scarlet flush spreading from her face to her entire neck and shoulders. Alphonse was not far behind. Neither of them dared speak for the entirety of the standoff, afraid of inviting more unease into the scene. Hayate merely sat there, wagging his tail and looking from one of them to the other and then back. Fear had gripped them both. Neither knew how to break the silence.

Finally, Alphonse swallowed hard and exhaled. "I have to go. I hope you feel better!"

Without another word, he clambered to his feet and shot out the front door. Riza muttered a hushed string of curses and buried her face in her hands.

* * *

It had been nearly seventy-two hours since Alphonse had made his escape from Riza's apartment.

By all reports, she was doing just fine. He'd sent Lieutenant Ross around to check on her, the day before. Riza's face had regained its color and the darkness under her eyes was quickly receding. This, of course, merely confirmed what Alphonse had suspected: that Riza's ailment was little more than a pesky stomach bug that she'd picked up from eating what may or may not have been poorly prepared seafood. He figured it really didn't matter. It any case, he was happy to hear that she was in good health, once again.

He had been grading exams in his corner office at the university when there was a knock at the door. This was nothing out of the ordinary; he had students preying upon him during all hours of the day, looking for tutoring or simple conversation. Without even looking up, Alphonse called, "Come in!"

The door opened and shut again. Alphonse caught a glimpse of blue fabric and silver trim. Already, his heart jumped up from within his ribcage and wedged itself inside his throat. He looked up and saw Riza standing at parade rest on the opposite side of his desk. She looked uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Elric."

Now _that_ was peculier.

"If I may," she said, doing her best to maintain her composure, "I would like to apologize for my conduct the other night. I was behaving in an entirely inappropriate manner and I'm very sorry. It will not happen again, Mr. Elric."

Alphonse looked up at her, his brow furrowed. His expression was one of astonishment. That was the very last thing he'd expected to happen. He leaned back in his chair and dropped his red pen on the desk. "You don't have to call me that, you know. I don't even make my _students_ call me that."

There was a beat. Riza, whose stance might have led one to believe that she was reporting to a superior officer, stared at him for a few short moments and let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding in. It was as though a massive weight had just been lifted from her shoulders. Though she didn't relax entirely, it was good for her to know that she didn't need to be on edge."

"I am sorry, Alphonse. I'm so . . . I don't know." Riza had never struggled with her words this much, before. Her chest tightened and she felt as though the office was closing in around her.

Alphonse watched her closely, noticing her demeanor and realizing that _she_ was embarassed. He'd never seen her so anxious. It astounded him. When her face began to take on a faint, rosy tint, once again, it dawned on Alphonse that she was feeling downright humiliated. He knew the feeling well and couldn't stand the fact that she was putting so much unecessary pressure on herself. As he watched her bite her bottom lip as she did her best to explain herself, he wished more than anything that he could just take all of her embarrassment and bear it himself. He was certainly plenty embarrassed, anyway. Another couple of days being mortified couldn't be that bad, right?

Then he came up with an idea to do just that.

"Riza," he began, as though mustering the audacity to address such a venerable, esteemed woman by her first name would somehow give him the courage to go through with this, "there's something I have to tell you. When I first met you, back when Brother and I were just kids, I had a pretty huge crush on you. Brother may have, too, but he never said anything to me. It didn't go away when I met Mei. And it didn't go away when I got my body back, either. I hope you'll forgive me for being so blunt, but I've spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to be with you. So you don't have any reason to feel anxious or embarrassed, especially around me."

Now it was his turn to be anxious. Alphonse watched her face for a few brief moments, searching for any indication that she had a positive response to what he'd just told her. Following this, he leaned over his desk and fiddled with his red pen, desperately hoping to stave off a flush that was threatened to creep up across his face.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Riza walked to the side of the office, did an about face, and leaned backwards against one of his filing cabinets. She looked up at the ceiling with a blissful sort of look on her face and said, "Well, you certainly know how to raise the stakes and make someone feel at ease at the same time. That's a paradoxical skill, Alphonse. You should be proud."

"I try."

Riza let out a deep sigh and added, "You know, I've always thought it would be nice to be with a man who doesn't make me feel like a babysitter. Someone mature and sophisticated. Someone I can trust, who's polite and gentlemanly. If I'm ever going to pursue a relationship with someone, I need to feel like I'm not at work."

"That's very insightful, Riza." Alphonse gave her a reassuring smile.

"Alphonse?"

"Hm?"

"Are you busy, tonight?"

The image of a guitar string snapping presented itself to his mind's eye, once again. This time, he was the one who responded, "Come again?"

"You heard me. Are you busy, tonight?"

Alphonse sat behind his desk, his eyes fixed on Riza, waiting for her to tell him that she was only joking. She didn't. After a while, he cleared his throat and shook his head eagerly. "No."

"Would you care to take me out?"

"Of course!" His enthusiasm was refreshing to her.

Riza nodded and said, "Excellent. Stop by my apartment this evening."

It took Alphonse several moments before he was fully able to comprehend the significance of what had just happened. By the time it finally dawned on him that Captain Riza Hawkeye had just _asked him out_, she was halfway out the door. "Riza," he called. Man, that would take some getting used to.

She stopped in the middle of her stride and poked her head back inside his office. "Hm?"

"So, about that dream you had." The accursed blush returned to his face, and he forced himself to ask, "Was it any good?"

The question was met with a slightly coy smirk. Riza looked down at the floor and replied, "What do you think?"

Alphonse placed a hand over his face, hoping to hide the expanding blush and his extreme satisfaction with her answer.

"Goodbye, Alphonse. I'll see you, tonight."

She left, then, and Alphonse stood up from his chair and walked to the small window opposite the filing cabinets in order to watch her leave. The outlandish nature of the past few days' events were not lost on him. He took a few minutes to recall how utterly dumbfounded he was at overhearing Riza's delighted moans, as well as how utterly horrified he was when he realized that he was listening to the subconscious fantasies of a woman who was considered an "expert marksman" by the military. (And who, most likely, slept with a sidearm handy.) More to the point, he wasn't used to being fancied by beautiful women, and the idea that _he_ was the one who was pleasuring Riza in her dreams was downright unheard of. Yet, he also found it somehow _humbling_. Alphonse caught sight of Riza strolling down the steps of the university building that housed his office and, seconds later, climbing into the driver's seat of her car.

Suddenly, three words popped into Alphonse's mind that seemed entirely appropriate, given the circumstances.

"Refuge in audacity," he whispered.


End file.
